


Eight and a half years

by Goldilocks92



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Persuasion - Jane Austen
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Hermione Granger, Black Hermione Granger, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gender Role Reversal, Out of Character Severus Snape, Severus and Hermione are about the same age, Shy Severus Snape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:21:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26072596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldilocks92/pseuds/Goldilocks92
Summary: ‘He’s changed so much, I barely recognised him.’ Severus felt winded by the words and had to steady himself against the wall for a moment, hanging his head in the dark hallway. So that’s what she thought of him, now. Eight and a half years had passed, and she was as glorious as ever, perhaps more so now, radiant and powerful, eyes sparking with life. Severus had known, of course, that he had not changed for the better. His prominent features had once been softened by a boyish charm, his face often animated and hopeful. Not so now. Now, he knew, he was haggard looking, deep creases on his forehead and around his mouth making him look severe and unhappy. His skin was sallow and often too dry, his hair perpetually greasy looking. He looked worn and tired and like a man of 45, not 33.In which Hermione and Severus had fallen in love in the past, and Severus had given her up. Severus cannot forget, and Hermione cannot forgive.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 35
Kudos: 159





	1. Chapter 1

‘He’s changed so much, I barely recognised him.’

Severus felt winded by the words and had to steady himself against the wall for a moment, hanging his head in the dark hallway.

So that’s what she thought of him, now. Eight and a half years had passed, and she was as glorious as ever, perhaps more so now, radiant and powerful, eyes sparking with life.

Severus had known, of course, that he had not changed for the better. His prominent features had once been softened by a boyish charm, his face often animated and hopeful. Not so now. Now, he knew, he was haggard looking, deep creases on his forehead and around his mouth making him look severe and unhappy. His skin was sallow and often too dry, his hair perpetually greasy looking. He looked worn and tired and like a man of 45, not 33.

But to hear it confirmed in her voice was another thing entirely. It balled up deep inside him and held on to his insides in a tight fist. _She had barely recognised him_.

They had met only briefly the day before. He had managed to avoid her otherwise. She had entered the kitchen with Tonks and Percy while Severus was brewing some Wolfsbane at his impromptu brewing station. Severus’ heart had thudded and his hand had quivered a bit at the unexpected sight of her, but he had been able to keep his composure enough to finish the series of stirs the potion required. She looked lovely and confident, smiling warmly at her companions as she entered. She had only briefly looked at Severus and had greeted him with a cold ‘hello’. The blood in his veins had turned to ice. He had not seen her in eight and a half years.

_He’s changed so much, I barely recognised him_.

Perhaps it was fortunate that he had overheard her offhand remark to her companions in the living room. At least now he could know for certain that there was no chance of their rekindling their past relationship. That she had lost all the attraction for him she had once had. That she would forever treat him with a cold, empty politeness. That they, who had once been so inseparable, so in love, so in tune with one another, were now more distant than strangers – because strangers, at least, had a chance of developing a friendship.

Severus steeled himself with this knowledge, drew it around himself like a cloak, and entered the living room where he had to spend the rest of the evening watching Hermione charm the other Order members. When he entered and found himself a seat in a corner, she was sitting on the edge of a dark green sofa, wearing jeans and a jumper that accentuated her soft curves. Her tight curls framed her face and her dark brown eyes glowed with animation. She didn’t so much as glance at him as some of the others greeted him.

She seemed absorbed in her conversation, and, upon being prompted by Sirius, started recounting her war stories with a compelling energy which had the others hanging on to her every word – the time she had escaped a veritable ocean of inferi by setting her own boat on fire, the challenges of negotiating a peace deal between warring vampire clans in order to unite them in the cause against Voldemort, the time she had been able to convincingly lie while she had been held under the _Cruciatus_ for hours.

Severus listened intently as he pretended to read his book, _The Healing Properties of Diverse Sea Life_ , involuntarily crumpling the pages at this last story, the thought of her intense suffering intolerable to him, the knowledge that she had come so close to death chilling him to the bone. She laughed through it though, as if it had been nothing.

The men were particularly keen to engage her, asking her questions about her travels and praising her bravery. Sirius and Remus were being especially bold, flirting outrageously with her in turn, which she laughed at while flirting back. She didn’t seem to have a preference for either and clearly enjoyed the company of both. Remus and Sirius were both handsome and easy going, eager to please and charming. The war had not scarred them, had not diminished their looks as it had Severus’. They were light-hearted and fun to be around. Remus was perhaps the better looking of the two, with even features and a rakish smile, but Sirius was livelier and more engaging, flourishing when he was at the centre of attention.

‘I wonder which one she’ll choose,’ Severus heard someone say nearby. It was Minerva who was chatting to Arthur on a sofa close to where Severus sat, Arthur’s toddlers playing at their feet. ‘She told me that she’s ready to settle down now, after her long years of travelling. Such a brave, beautiful woman. I’m sure either Sirius or Remus would do very well for her, handsome young men, and half in love with her already! Personally, I’d bet on Remus winning her over in the end.’

‘No, my dear, I think you’ll find Sirius will be the one to get her,’ Arthur replied, and Severus looked back at Hermione, bright and laughing under all the attention in the centre of the room as Arthur and Minerva made their bets. His heart was clenched in a tight vice, it felt like suffocation, and Severus wished fervently to be anywhere but here in this room, with her.

…

They had met before the beginning of the war. Severus had newly joined the Death Eaters after finishing his potions mastery, excited at the prospect of proving himself, showing the world what he had to offer. He was working as a potioneer, developing new potions to extend the limits of magic which to so many seemed set in stone. The Dark Lord had provided him with state-of-the-art equipment and a free licence to work on any projects appealing to him. He felt far away from his former life, where, as the quiet and withdrawn boy he was, he had been perpetually overlooked and underestimated. He had not had many friends, had had a lonely existence.

Hermione had been recruited fresh out of Hogwarts, the bright young muggleborn trophy for the Dark Lord to show off to the world, a token to demonstrate that muggleborns could have a place in his new regime. She was an excellent spellcaster, had come top in almost every class in her school, was ambitious and eager to learn, eager to excel, eager to succeed. She had been a few years below him at school, a Ravenclaw while he had been a Slytherin, and they had barely noticed each other back then.

But upon meeting one another again, they had fallen in love almost immediately. Severus had been tasked with showing her the ropes. She would be working on developing her spellcrafting skills, with the aim of developing new spells while Severus developed new potions. He was quiet and reserved, yet treated her with a sincerity and kindness that drew her in quickly. She was outgoing and confident, she liked talking, and soon found that she especially liked talking to him. He who listened carefully and thought deeply about her ideas, who treated her with respect and on terms of equality which she soon discovered was rare in the Dark Lord’s enclave. Before they knew it, they were almost inseparable and spent every possible moment side by side. No other two people could have felt so connected, so united, as they had then. Severus had never before felt that kind of felicity, had never known what it meant to see another person and be seen in return, to understand and be understood.

They made a strange pair among the Dark Lord’s ranks. Others laughed at their physical dissimilarities. Severus was tall, thin, and pale, his nose large and hooked, his cheekbones high, his hair black and hanging past his shoulders, and he was always dressed in black. Hermione was much shorter than him, her figure full and curvaceous, her skin dark brown, her nose small, and her hair curled proudly around her soft round face like a dark halo. She wore bright colours. Her favourite cloak was bright red and stood out at the gatherings, bold and unapologetic, like she was.

The first time they kissed, Severus had almost cried. Perhaps he should be ashamed of the fact, but to have led a life as lonely as his, to have been so unappreciated and unloved as he had been, and then, to discover that this need not be so, that there was this bright beautiful person who knew him and wanted him… it had been too much. And he had told her that he loved her immediately after, knowing that it was too soon but unable to hold it in, and she had kissed him again and told him she had fallen for him too. Never had he been happier.

The first time they had made love, Severus had actually cried. As she rode him, holding his hands down onto the bed as she rose up and down on his length, her sheath hot and wet and her glowing eyes fixed to his, he had felt himself crumble apart into a thousand little pieces which had merged with hers before reforming. In that moment they had become one being. Afterwards, Hermione had gripped his face between her hands and said ‘we belong together, Severus, marry me.’ And he had dissolved into tears and the last threads of his loneliness had floated away, disappearing into the night.

Too soon, the reality of the Dark Lord’s aims and depravities had intruded on their bliss. His regime was one to be based on suffering and destruction, not knowledge and progress, and Hermione was there as a mere puppet to be held up as a false proof against the Death Eater’s bigoted ideologies. They discussed these revelations in quiet night-time whispers, bonding further over their shared horrors of what they had inadvertently become involved in. They discussed the possibility of fighting together, bringing down Voldemort’s forces from the inside. They hatched plans and debated plots, each less realistic than the last, yet they were certain that, together, they would win.

And then Dumbledore had approached Severus. Dumbledore, who had been the only adult in Severus’ life who had ever shown care for him, his headteacher at school who had become his legal guardian when his parents had died. The man who had appeared to believe in him when no one else had, who had told Severus that he was talented and intelligent and could go far in life. The man who had first nudged him towards the Death Eaters in the first place.

The reason behind this last act finally became clear to Severus. He had always been meant as a spy. Dumbledore had expected him to become disenchanted with the Dark Lord’s plans as, indeed, he had. And so Dumbledore finally informed Severus of his plans, now that he had planted himself firmly in the Dark Lord’s service. Severus was to feign allegiance, do his utmost to gain the Dark Lord’s favour, and bring information back to Dumbledore to be used by the Order. It would be dangerous. But he had no choice.

Severus told Dumbledore about Hermione, that they could work together, spy together, to further the Order’s efforts. But Dumbledore had persuaded him against it. It had taken much persuasion, and Severus had initially resisted firmly. But Dumbledore emphasised the danger that they would be in, the precariousness of their positions. If they made any mistakes, the Order’s cause would be lost and the Dark Lord would win. Hermione might be well intentioned, but she was untrained, unexperienced. She was too bold, she would give them away. Now was not the time for love. Perhaps later, when Hermione had proven herself. They were young yet and there would be many more options for Severus out there, more prudent options, women better positioned to support him and further the cause.

Severus was certain, deeply certain, that there could be no other woman for him. But he had let Dumbledore’s words influence him all the same. Perhaps if Dumbledore had not been his sole source of comfort and support as a child, this would not have been the case. And if Severus had not believed that his decision would be the best for the Order as well as for Hermione herself, he would not have been able to go through with it.

But go through with it he did. He told Hermione that he could not marry her, that Dumbledore had persuaded him it would be a mistake, it was too soon, too rash, too imprudent. That he would become Dumbledore’s spy alone.

And she had not taken the rejection well. She had been furious. Her heart was broken, too, but this was overshadowed by her hurt pride. Severus had promised himself to her, had agreed to marry her, to fight by her side, and he had let himself be influenced by someone other than herself to end their engagement. She would not hear him out, would not listen to his ‘maybes’ for the future, his protestations of continued love. She had left him, firm in her decision never to set eyes on him again.

Severus had been wretched, his loneliness engulfing him again tenfold. He became Dumbledore’s spy, mostly kept apart from the rest of the Order aside from the most occasional meetings, none of which Hermione had attended. He climbed the Dark Lord’s ranks and eventually found himself the right-hand man. He had had to commit the most terrible crimes, had felt his soul whither, and he had had no one to share it with, no one who knew him or saw him or loved him. His youth had faded quickly, and after eight and a half years of painful toil, he hardly recognised himself in the mirror.

Hermione had escaped the enclave and was quickly recruited for the Order by Minerva. She had excelled in her training before being dispatched on missions around the world, gaining allies for the cause. Severus had heard of her successes only intermittently over the years, and each time had pierced his heart with a lonely, longing agony. She had never tried to contact him again, never sought him out. And all the while, Severus knew that he would never, could never, love another.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who has left comments and kudos so far - and yes, this is based on Austen's Persuasion! Bonus points to everyone who guessed correctly :D I've pretty much finished writing the whole thing now, and it will be about 6 chapters long. Kudos and comments are much appreciated! I hope you enjoy reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it.

The next days were agony. Hermione was everywhere, glowing and bright, and Severus longed to tangle his fingers in her thick curls, to bury his face in her soft neck, to hold her again and be held by her in return.

She shone with an irresistible confidence. There were those, like Dumbledore, who had doubted her abilities and usefulness to the Order. Severus knew that that there were others who, throughout her life, had tried to denigrate her for her blood status or for the colour of her skin. Hermione had proven them all wrong. She had held tight to her self-belief throughout, her strong sense of pride carrying her above the tide of those who had belittled and underestimated her. Now, she was a celebrated war hero, the shining star of the Order.

Whenever they were in the same room, Severus watched her with an aching heart. But she ignored him steadfastly, never exchanging more than polite necessities. He knew that in her mind, he had joined the ranks of those who had failed to believe in her. But now they were trapped together for these two weeks at Grimmauld Place, a compulsory celebration following the defeat of Voldemort. Minerva and Arthur had insisted he attend, and Dumbledore, too, had prodded him to go.

As he had the first day, Severus continued to excuse himself from the company as much as possible, insisting that he had to brew more batches of Wolfsbane for the newly turned werewolves, as well as potions for other casualties of the final battle. But still, he had to endure endless hours of being in the same room with her, witnessing her flirtatious banter with Remus and Sirius who were growing ever more infatuated, day by day.

One afternoon, almost a week in, they had all gathered in the garden for a game of quidditch. Severus had been roped in as keeper, and had been doing a fine job of it despite his lack of recent practice. For once, Hermione was not in the midst of the action, having never overcome her dislike of flying. Instead, she cheered on from below, admiring Sirius and Remus’ skills as the seekers for the opposing teams. She was wearing a red sundress which accentuated her waist and the soft curve of her hips. Severus was consumed with longing and ever aware of his pallid form, his _unrecognisable_ descent into full-blown ugliness. He would never be able to touch her again.

He was interrupted from his depressed musings by Sirius’ shout - ‘I am determined to win!’ he called down to Hermione, a broad charming grin accompanying the words. And eventually win he did, swooping through the air in a daring barrel-roll to snatch the snitch from right under Remus’ nose. Flushed with victory, he dived down towards Hermione, stopping mere inches from the ground, and presented the snitch to her. ‘For you, my lady,’ he pronounced dramatically.

‘Thank you!’ Hermione laughed, ‘that is just what I like in a man! Determination and firmness, you follow through on your promises. I can’t stand people with a weak nature, who say one thing and then do another. You could not be so easily swayed from your purpose, I think. I want a man who will fight for me.’

The cruel words hit Severus like a bludger. It was doubtless that she said them with his rejection in mind. So this was what she thought of him. Weak-natured and easily swayed. She had not forgotten, and she had not forgiven. And as Severus was watching from above, Hermione gave Sirius a kiss on the cheek in exchange for her snitch and gave him a winning smile. Sirius blushed and grinned and took her hand in his and pressed a kiss against her palm, the perfect image of the smitten suitor.

Severus looked away then and clenched his broom tightly in his fists as he flew down to land, stumbling somewhat on the impact. His team had won but he felt no victory. Percy approached him to shake his hand for a good game, he had been the other team’s keeper, and Severus let himself be drawn into a boring conversation about airspace regulations. Hermione was behind him, and Severus was glad that he didn’t have to see her with Sirius. It was bad enough that he could hear them laughing together behind him. 

The next morning, after a sleepless lonely night, Severus was brewing in the kitchen again when Arthur’s toddlers, Fred and George, interrupted his solitude. They were over-excited and bored, and soon they were pulling at his legs and cloak as Severus tried to concentrate on his complicated potion which could blow up at any moment if he made a wrong move. ‘Stop that!’ he growled at them, ‘let me go now!’ But they didn’t listen and continued pulling and shoving at him as he grimaced through his effort to focus.

Then, suddenly, relief – Hermione entered the kitchen and scooped the twins off the floor and into her arms. ‘There you are, you rascals!’ she said, as they started pulling at her hair, fascinated at the way it bounced back into its tight curls. ‘You shouldn’t interrupt Snape while he’s brewing,’ she reprimanded them, ‘naughty boys! And what have I told you about touching my hair!’

She carried them from the kitchen without exchanging a word or a look with Severus, but he felt her actions bloom in his chest. She may not have forgiven him, and her use of his last name stung, but she still cared enough to save him and his potion. Despite her coldness towards him, he knew she was a good person, a kind person, and the knowledge satisfied him. He was glad to see her goodness and brightness unchanged, even if it was so rarely directed towards him, and he wanted to see her happy.

And then came the fatal day. Everyone had decided that a day trip to Hogsmeade would make a perfect addition to their celebrations. Severus could not but go with them.

The morning had gone horribly. They had divided into groups to walk down the high street, shops had finally started opening again after Voldemort had fallen, when Severus heard Hermione and Sirius talking in low tones. He heard his own name and froze.

‘It’s a shame that Severus never met much with the Order,’ Sirius was saying, ‘we would all have liked to hear more directly about what was going on at the enclave. And Tonks was really keen on him, for a while, and we all thought she should have married him rather than Percy. Percy can be so irritating, sometimes, and Severus has a lot more sense and would have been so much more helpful with everything. You know, alongside all the spying, he brewed almost every healing potion the Order needed.’

‘Tonks?’ Hermione sounded taken aback, ‘Tonks wanted to be with Severus?’

‘Yeah,’ Sirius replied, and Severus had to move closer to them in order to catch what they were saying as they moved away from where he had been lurking, ‘it would have been so much better, we all like him a lot more, even if he is a bit quiet.’

‘But why didn’t he?’ Hermione asked, and Severus’ heart beat faster at her obvious interest in the matter.

‘Dumbledore, I suppose,’ Sirius replied, ‘he wanted to keep Severus separate from the rest of the Order, would barely let him join the meetings, was paranoid about his cover being blown. And I suppose he thought Tonks was too much of a wild card, that she might lead Severus astray. I think Dumbledore persuaded Severus against it. He has always had such a strong influence over him.’

‘When was that?’

‘Oh I can’t remember, a couple of years after the war started, I guess, two years before she married Percy.’

Hermione was silent for a moment, and Sirius seized his chance.

‘I would never let myself be so persuaded against being with someone, if I was determined to have them. Once I know what I want, nothing and no one can stop me from gaining it. I, for one, fight for the things that are important to me.’ Clearly, he recalled her words from the quidditch match.

‘And that is just as it should be, Sirius,’ Hermione said softly, ‘I respect you for that.’

And they walked off arm in arm as Severus stood there, stunned. She had made her choice, then. It would be Sirius. And she thought Severus persuadable and weak. He had never considered Tonks, had thought her lively and charming the few times he’d spoken to her, but had never even contemplated entering into a relationship with someone he already knew he could not love. Not that he could ever have had the time to pursue a relationship alongside his spying duties. He had let her down gently when she’d asked him out after cornering him after one of the rare meetings he’d been allowed to attend.

Severus left the shadows and turned in the opposite direction from the pair. He made for the bookstore where he perused the potions section for a while without taking in a single title.

In the afternoon, he re-joined the group as they gathered at the Three Broomsticks for a butterbeer. The pub was crowded, full of Hogsmeade’s residents who were still celebrating the end of the war, and those who recognised them lavishly provided the Order with free drinks in thanks. Rosmerta greeted them wholeheartedly. She had been a constant ally of the Order, providing them with those bits and bobs of information she had been able to overhear from various customers. She had fallen wildly in love with Alastor Moody several years before, and the couple had had a long engagement before Alastor had fallen in the final battle. She was more subdued now, a gentle sorrow often seeming to hang over her.

Severus didn’t know it, but his own looks had much improved in the last week. The time spent outdoors, the lack of war-related stress, and the regular meals had all done wonders. His face had regained some colour, he had put on a bit of weight, and the creases on his forehead had lessened somewhat, making him look less severe.

While he didn’t notice it, a beautiful redheaded woman sitting at a table across from him certainly did. She smiled at him sweetly, her interest clear in her gaze. He smiled politely at her in return, pleased at the rare attention, before turning back to his conversation with Hagrid, who was telling him all about his search to find a mate for Fang. But the pretty woman didn’t give up. She went to the bar and ordered him a drink, and Rosmerta brought it to him, adding ‘for you, from the young lady over there’. Hermione took notice and looked sharply at the redhead, before looking back at Severus, her gaze lingering on his features with something like admiration for the first time in almost a decade.

Severus met her gaze and what he saw in it made his heart stutter. He had seen that look before, a long time ago. _She liked what she saw_. She looked away again soon after, her attention diverted by Sirius’ flirtatious nudge, but the warm glow that had spread through Severus’ chest remained there as he drank his butterbeer.

After several rounds, the group was just starting to get ready to leave the pub, standing up, pulling on their cloaks and gathering their purchases, when an older drunk man suddenly stumbled up to Hermione and leered at her.

‘You look like you’ve got a pretty pussy, princess’, he slurred, eyes bright with liquor and lust, and his hands reaching towards her to paw at her breasts. Severus’ lip curled in disgust and Hermione had her wand whipped out in a second. She was well on her way to dealing with the problem, the man had already taken a step back in surprise at the sudden sight of her wand, when Sirius intervened, hotly pushing the man in the chest.

“Sirius, don’t!’ Hermione cried, but Sirius didn’t listen and punched the man to the ground with a sickening crack. The man was sprawled on the floor, holding his bleeding nose. Sirius turned to Hermione and triumphantly grinned. ‘Told you I would fight for what I wanted, didn’t –‘ Sirius started saying, but before he could finish, the drunk, bleeding man had pulled out his own wand and sent a cutting hex at Sirius’ throat, and then Sirius was lay crumpled on the ground, blood spurting violently from his neck as the people around them started screaming and panicking.

‘Oh god,’ Hermione cried, falling to her knees and grabbing at Sirius in obvious despair, ‘someone _do_ something!’ She had never excelled at healing charms, a complicated, nuanced kind of magic.

Percy was shouting and Remus stood frozen to the ground, standing stock still at the unexpected sight of so much blood, such an immediate reminder of the horrors of the battle.

Only Severus moved swiftly, stepping forward in two long strides before crouching at Sirius’ side. He ripped a strip of fabric from the bottom of his shirt and pressed it tightly to the gaping wound as he pulled out his wand and started murmuring a series of counter-hexes and healing spells in his deep, smooth voice.

Everyone around him was still frozen or panicking, but Severus held back his horror at the bloody mess before him and calmly but firmly commanded, ‘someone, go fetch Poppy from her lodgings, be quick.’

Hermione jumped up quickly, crying ‘yes, of course!’, grateful to have been given a task. She moved as if to go, but Severus stopped her.

‘No, not you, Rosmerta should go, she knows where Poppy lives.’

So Rosmerta rushed off, and Severus continued attending to Sirius. The bleeding had mostly stopped now, as a result of his spells, but Sirius was still unconscious, his face pale with blood loss. A pool of blood had spread over the floor, and the knees of Severus’ trousers were damp. There was not much more Severus could do for him. He conjured a damp warm cloth and smoothed it gently over Sirius’ forehead.

He looked at Hermione. She just sat there, looking stunned and distraught. She looked up at Severus then and just sat there, watching him, a couple of tears running down her face. As their eyes met, the noise surrounding them seemed to fade away, a mere rushing at the back of his mind. Severus held her gaze for a long moment, his soul suspended. He felt as if she was _seeing_ him again, like he’d not been seen since they’d parted such a long time ago. It was a beautiful, painful sensation, and though he knew it could not last, he wouldn’t have given it up for the world.

And then Rosmerta pulled him back to the present, having just returned with Poppy. ‘Right, move him to the back room, there’s a bed there where he can rest and recover for as long as he needs to, come on!’

And Sirius was levitated away and into the back, Poppy going after him to attend to her patient, leaving behind them the stark pool of blood which Severus quickly _evanescoed_. Everyone just stood there, silent, and shocked. The other customers had been cleared from the bar, and they were alone. After a short while, some aurors came to take away the perpetrator, who must have been contained by one of the others, but Severus barely took notice of it. He was watching Hermione. Her face was ashen and she was crying, clearly devastated. She was standing next to Minerva, and kept muttering ‘stupid, stupid!’ and ‘why did he do it?’ and ‘I told him not to, but he didn’t listen,’ and then, ‘god, it’s all my fault, my fault.’ The last phrase seemed wrenched from her, her voice tight and choked.

A while later Poppy came out and said, ‘he’s going to be fine, most probably, but he will need to stay here for a while. He’s still unconscious, he lost a lot of blood. The room is small and we need one person to stay here with him to watch over him. The rest of you should go home. We’ll send you updates as soon as possible.’

Some of the Order started leaving, while others stayed to discuss who should stay with Sirius. Severus overheard a heated discussion between Hermione and some of the others, and what he heard held him fast in seat and set his heart to fluttering.

‘Severus should stay,’ Hermione was saying, ‘no one is as capable as he is. He was the only one of us who didn’t panic, who reacted, who is so skilled at healing. He saved Sirius’ life. No one else is as suited as he is to stay and take care of him.’ As she finished this, her eyes sought and found Severus’ and they seemed to glow at him through her remaining tears, full of gratitude and warmth. The impact of her look left Severus temporarily unable to breathe.

Arthur and Minerva seemed to agree with her, but Remus was so insistent that he would be the one to stay, because he was, after all, Sirius’ _best friend,_ and Severus was _no one_ to him, that Hermione eventually, and reluctantly, relented.

There was nothing for Severus to do but to leave, his shirt torn and spattered with blood. He took a long last look at Hermione who returned his gaze with a forlorn, broken expression, and then turned to leave.

But for a long time after he felt warmed and gratified by her words, her faith in him and his abilities. But he equally couldn’t forget her distraught expression when Sirius had fallen to the ground, and her obvious anguish after. Severus could no longer doubt that she cared deeply for Sirius. He only hoped that Sirius would pull through.

Back at Grimmauld Place, it appeared that the others agreed with Severus’ assessment. As soon as they had all returned, Hermione had grabbed some supplies and gone straight back to Hogsmeade.

‘She’s so desperate to get back to him,’ Minerva commented, ‘I suppose I owe you now, Arthur,’ she added, recalling their bet and trying to lighten the mood in the heavy atmosphere of the living room.

As the others conversed, it became clear to Severus that they all assumed the same, that Hermione and Sirius were committed to each other, in love. And so, he supposed, it was.

He suppressed his pain as best he could, and retreated to the kitchen to start brewing the potions he was sure Poppy would need.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the third chapter - it's a bit shorter than the others, but there will be more to follow soon! Enter Lily Evans onto the scene *shock horror!* Let me know what you all think :)

Severus had been at Hogwarts for over a month now. The two-week celebration had been cut short by the events at Hogsmeade, and there had been no reason for him to remain at Grimmauld Place. And so the next morning, after he’d spent the night brewing potions to help Sirius’ recovery, Severus had moved to Hogwarts.

Dumbledore had offered him the Potions Professorship, and Severus had agreed, not knowing what else to do with his life. He had no great desire either to teach or to be surrounded by so many children, but he had nowhere else to go. And being in Dumbledore’s presence was a bonus too. Dumbledore had, perhaps, manipulated him at times in the past, and had persuaded him to do that which Severus now regretted so bitterly it seemed to burn him from the inside. But Severus also believed that Dumbledore had genuinely cared for him throughout, had tried to further Severus’ best interests, had been there for him when Severus had had no one else, and had given the advice he had given with no real understanding of the deeply painful consequences it had caused.

And so he was at Hogwarts, preparing lesson plans for the new school year, helping rebuild parts of the castle that had been damaged in the war, brewing Wolfsbane and healing potions as they were needed, and trying not to think about Hogsmeade and Grimmauld Place. Trying not to imagine Sirius waking up with Hermione at his sickbed, and the inevitable events which were to follow.

He occasionally received some notes informing him about Sirius’ progress. He was glad to know that his recovery was well on its way. He was still at Rosmerta’s, though receiving regular visits from his friends. Severus was grateful that someone had thought to keep him informed about Sirius’ recovery, though he didn’t know who had been the one to write.

There was one nice development which somewhat reconciled Severus to his new position at Hogwarts. The pretty redheaded woman who had bought him a drink at the Three Broomsticks had turned out to be the new Charms professor at Hogwarts. Her name was Lily Evans, and she was intelligent and pleasant to be around. She seemed particularly keen to develop a friendship with Severus, and Severus enjoyed their conversations and their quiet games of chess in the evenings. It was nice to feel that she liked him and his company, that he was gaining a new friend, a rarity in his life indeed.

Dumbledore also seemed to approve of this friendship, and told Severus one day: ‘Lily is just the type of woman I have always imagined for you, my boy. She is beautiful and intelligent, of course, but also moderate and composed. She would make a great partner, indeed.’

Sometimes, Severus imagined what it might be like to settle down with a partner, a companion. Someone he could have interesting conversations with. Someone who might hold him and show him affection. He might never have to be alone again.

But despite such thoughts, and the way that Lily often looked at him as if she genuinely found him attractive, Severus never seriously considered pursuing a romantic relationship with her. He enjoyed her company and she _was_ very charming and lovely, but there was something missing. She was lacking a certain spark, of brightness, of liveliness. Severus had no true insight into her emotions and feelings, she never showed any real anger or happiness or excitement. She was constantly perfectly pleasant and agreeable, and somehow this almost unnerved him. He couldn’t quite trust her. He would spend time with her, and enjoy it, but he could not let himself pass beyond the limits of mere friendship with her. At least, not until his doubts were overcome. And perhaps not even then.

And so the weeks at Hogwarts passed by quite pleasantly. In the mornings Severus would often work on repairing the turrets or enforcing the castle’s wards and in the afternoons he would work on his lesson plans and potions. The regular meals in the Great Hall nicely structured his day and he would often find himself seated next to Lily and engaged in an interesting conversation on subjects as diverse as the healing qualities of tropical insects or the alarming political developments taking place in the muggle world. In the evenings he would have a quiet drink with Dumbledore in the headmaster’s office, or join a round of cards with Minerva and his other colleagues in the staff room, or play a game of chess with Lily in the library.

The one constant throughout his days was his effort not to think of Hermione, not to imagine her in Sirius’ arms, happy and content without him while he longed and longed for her. His effort not to compare her with Lily, not to contrast her energetic boldness with Lily’s calm composure, not to measure Lily’s green eyes, which sometimes seemed to hold a calculating gleam, with Hermione’s warm, open pair which glowed and sparked in turn.

And then, one day at breakfast, the ceiling of the Great Hall reflecting a darkened, cloudy sky, Severus overheard Minerva mentioning the event which he had spent the last month dreading. ‘I went to visit Sirius, the other day,’ she was telling Sprout. ‘He seems much recovered now, is up and about and almost restored to his former self. Though he has changed, somewhat, he’s much more subdued than he used to be. Though I suppose that might change again, once he’s married.’

Severus’ heart stopped in his chest and his fingernails dug into his palm under the table.

‘Ah yes,’ Sprout was saying, ‘congratulations to the lad! When is the happy day to be?’

‘Next week!’ Minerva exclaimed, ‘it’s very quick, to be sure, but it seems they both fell for each other so rapidly during his recovery. They’re inseparable now. Which reminds me – when we go to Hogsmeade later, I need to buy myself a gown for the ceremony.’

Severus managed to hold his reeling emotions in until he was alone in his chambers. The second his door closed behind him, he sunk to the floor, his head in his hands, gasping for breath. The pain in his chest was suffocating. He barely noticed the tears running down his cheeks.

It was done then. They were to be married. Hermione was lost to him forever, though he had never had a hope to begin with. Her and Sirius, a handsome, lively couple. They would be the life and soul of every room they would ever enter. And Severus would remain at Hogwarts, lonely but not alone, with no chance of ever gaining true happiness. Severus released a pained groan at the thought of the lonely, empty expanse of his future spreading out before him.

In his efforts to calm himself, he reminded himself of his resolution to be happy for her. He should be glad to know that she would be safe and content in the world. And he would forever have his memory of those glorious months so many years ago, when he had been to her what she was to him, when she had chosen him and loved him, seen him and known him. Held and cherished him. When their hearts had been so open and honest and true and had merged in perfect contentment and trust in their joint future.

At such memories, it was difficult for Severus not to allow a wave of resentment at Dumbledore to wash through him, bitterness at his advice and insistence, regret at having listened and obeyed. It had cost him everything.

A wave of loneliness engulfed him then, and Severus curled up on himself on the floor of the dungeons and let out a long, anguished moan.


	4. Chapter 4

Severus spent the rest of the miserable morning hiding in his chambers and eventually set about rebuilding his lost composure. This was no more than he expected, he reminded himself, he had lost Hermione long before her engagement. She could not forgive or forget his rejection, and along the way, she had lost her attraction to him too. When he looked in the mirror and saw his own haggard, pallid features, he could hardly blame her. No, he would be happy for her, eventually, and would carve out his own contentment in life, focus on his work and developing friendships with his colleagues.

He repeated this to himself enough times to almost believe it, and then it was time to go to lunch before joining the staff on a walk to Hogsmeade. The day was still overcast and there was a heavy feeling in the air, as though it would soon rain. It suited his mood perfectly.

He walked alongside Lily on the path leading down into the village. She had caught up with him when the group had departed and had stuck to his side, determined to engage him in conversation. He was distracted and kept forgetting to listen to her as she spoke to him in confidential undertones.

Just as they were entering the village, she touched his sleeve with her elegant hand and looked up at him through her lashes, her bright green eyes gleaming up at him. Once again, Severus failed to stop himself from comparing them to Hermione’s warm glow.

‘I’m so glad we’ve become friends, Severus,’ she said with a small, flirtatious smile on her lips. ‘I hope that one day, we might become more.’

But at that very moment, Severus saw something which stopped him in his tracks and drove Lily’s words right out of his mind.

Sirius and a blonde woman were locked in a passionate embrace just outside the entrance of the Three Broomsticks. Severus could barely believe his eyes. As the couple parted, he recognised the blonde figure – _Rosmerta_. He stared open mouthed, a confused hope blooming wildly in his chest which he was unable to tamp down, and then it was confirmed –

‘Ah, young love,’ Minerva sighed. ‘They can hardly keep their hands off one another.’ Sprout and some of the others giggled as they moved onwards.

As the figures turned to enter the Three Broomsticks together, arm in arm, Severus caught up with Minerva, leaving Lily standing behind him with a put-out look marring her pretty features. ‘Minnie,’ he said, using her nickname for once, ‘do you mean to say that it is _Rosmerta_ Sirius is marrying next week?’

‘Well of course, Severus, didn’t you know?’

‘I thought – I thought Sirius and Hermione were together,’ Severus stuttered, afraid of giving himself away, though clearly no one had ever supposed that there might be something between Hermione and himself. And why would they? He had certainly told no one but Dumbledore about their closeness at the enclave, and it was pretty clear that Hermione hadn’t either. And since the end of the war, no one who had observed them at Grimmauld Place together could ever have supposed that there was any kind of intimacy between them, past or present.

‘So did we all, my dear, so did we all!’ Minerva cried, delighted at the gossip. ‘I was so certain that we’d be hearing wedding bells in that direction sooner rather than later, but no! It appears we were all mistaken. As soon as Sirius was out of danger, Hermione went off to Shropshire to visit her parents for a while, and the next thing we all knew, Sirius and Rosmerta were madly in love! I was stunned, I tell you, stunned! But I do think they make a sweet pair. Though I was surprised by Rosmerta, she had been so in love with Alastor, you know, before he died. She had seemed so heartbroken, I never thought I’d see her fall in love again, and so quickly too.’

Severus’ heart leapt, irrational as it may be. He would still have no chance to win her back, but the thought was wiped out by the sheer hope spreading through his chest, a joyful pressure he had to work hard to keep hidden.

‘And Hermione isn’t too… angry or disappointed?’ Severus asked hesitantly, he just couldn’t help himself, it was too good an opportunity for information to pass up.

‘Oh no,’ Minerva countered, ‘Hermione seems just the same as always! Almost as if she had never harboured any hopes in that direction at all! No, all she said to me was that she wished them well and thought that they would be very happy together. Such a gracious woman, that one.’

Severus couldn’t help but remember that she had not been so gracious at _his_ rejection. Perhaps she had not felt as much for Sirius as he had supposed, or perhaps she had just become better at hiding her true feelings. He could only hope that she hadn’t been hurt too deeply.

Minerva went off to go shopping for a formal gown for the wedding and as it had finally started raining, Severus accompanied some of the others into Madam Puddifoot’s for a coffee. The café was warm and comfortable, comfy couches grouped around variously shaped coffee tables. As he enjoyed the hot, bitter taste of his black coffee, Severus half listened to Lily and Septima’s conversation about wedding dresses while he watched the rain drops crawling down the windows.

The street outside had quickly emptied when the rain had started, and Severus’ eyes followed a small form hurrying past the window, wearing a bright red cloak and holding a newspaper above its head to shield them from the worst of the rain. There was something about the person’s gait which seemed familiar, and then, suddenly, the realisation of who was rushing past the café struck him like a bolt and sent his heart racing.

_Hermione_. 

Severus barely knew what he was doing when he stood up to go to the entrance, his eyes still following the form as she made her way down the street before disappearing from sight. _What was she doing here?_ His mind whirled and his heart thumped loudly in his ears. His hands felt numb as the adrenaline diverted his blood from his extremities. He breathed deeply to try and compose himself and then there she was again, turning back towards the café with Minerva in tow. They must have met on the street. The bell above the door rang clearly as they came through the door, and Severus turned away quickly, steeling himself for a moment, before turning again towards her.

She stopped still when she saw him, shock registering in her beautiful face. She blushed and looked flustered, giving him a quick, quiet, ‘hello’, before turning back to Minerva who was talking about her newly purchased gown. He had never seen her this affected at the sight of him before in all their time at Grimmauld Place. And then, as Minerva approached the others, Hermione turned to him again.

‘Hello, Severus,’ she said softly, and stepped closer to him. She looked up into his face and her eyes glowed warmly, a gentle, embarrassed smile curving her full lips. Severus drank in the longed-for sight of her greedily, looking for signs of recent heartbreak but finding nothing but surprise, pleasure, and embarrassment. Her red cloak was damp from the rain and the humidity had made her hair expand and curl more wildly. She looked like a goddess.

Severus barely knew what he was saying as he greeted her in return. He couldn’t believe how changed her manner was towards him, how she was looking at him again, still so surprised but clearly not unhappy to see him.

‘You look well,’ she said, blushing more brightly again. ‘Peace time clearly agrees with you.’

Pleasure spread through him at her words, and he felt himself flushing in return. ‘I didn’t know you were in Hogsmeade,’ he said then, too aware of the hopeful tension which lay heavy on his chest and made it hard for him to think.

‘Yes, yes, I just arrived this morning,’ she said, ‘I wasn’t prepared for the rain’. She laughed, holding up the sopping newspaper she still held in her hand. The sight and sound of her laugh, finally directed at him, made the room seem brighter. ‘I’ve asked Minerva if I could stay at Hogwarts for a while, there are some resources in the library I need for my research.’

She would be staying at the castle then, and the thought of seeing her regularly, sleeping under the same roof, sent an almost uncontainable thrill through him. Perhaps, perhaps, they could rekindle their friendship, if nothing else.

‘I would be interested to hear about your research, Hermione,’ Severus said in a low tone, the pleasure of addressing her by her name, of, finally, talking to her roughening the timbre of his voice.

Hermione seemed abashed for a moment, looking down at her soaked shoes before looking up at him again, her eyes still glowing in that old way of hers which he had missed so much and had believed he’d never see again, at least not directed at him. ‘Would you like a coffee, Severus?’ she asked him, ‘it would be nice to catch up, and I can tell you about my new project.’

Severus was just about to agree wholeheartedly when a hand touched his elbow.

‘I’m so sorry to keep you waiting, Severus,’ Lily Evans trilled. ‘I know I had promised to show you that new book on the healing properties of ground seashells we were talking about earlier. I’ve just managed to get hold of a large umbrella for us, to protect us on the way to the bookstore.’

She placed her hand more firmly in the crook of his elbow and led him towards the door. Severus followed her helplessly, his mind and heart too full to come up with a way out. He just had enough time to shoot an embarrassed smile at Hermione and say, ‘it was nice to see you again,’ before he had been whisked away.

He missed the way Hermione’s eyes had narrowed and focused on Lily’s hand resting on his arm, the way her shoulders tensed and then dropped, as if in disappointment.

Severus found it very difficult to focus on what Lily was saying to him on their way to the bookshop. He held the umbrella she had thrust into his hand above them both as she clung tightly to his side, her hands gripped uncomfortably around his arm.

He wished that she would be quiet and keep her pleasantries to herself. He needed a moment to gather his thoughts, to think about his encounter with Hermione, to wrestle the hope and joy coursing through him and reason with himself to evade the future disappointment he was sure was coming for him.

But, gods – the way her dark eyes had glowed and her soft lips had curled, and she had asked him to have a coffee with her! It was impossible for him not to hope, and he sorely wished that Lily had not interrupted their reunion.

Severus muddled his way through the rest of the day, Hermione permanently in his thoughts. Hope, desire and confusion warred for dominance in his mind. Strongest of all, though, was the longing to see her again, to talk to her, to be in her presence.

He felt a strange elation when he entered the Great Hall that evening for dinner and saw Hermione sitting at the head table with the rest of the staff – strange because his joy was tempered by disquiet, an internal warning not to become too attached, too hopeful.

Despite such internal warnings, Severus’ heart skipped a beat when he noticed the empty chair next to her. Hagrid was sat on her other side and they seemed to be conversing earnestly. Severus approached the empty seat full of equal measures of hope and trepidation, what if she rejected him again? But just then, just as Hermione looked in his direction and began to smile at him as if in welcome, Lily called his name and waved at him to join her on the other side of the table in such an obvious invitation, that it would have been impossibly rude to ignore her.

Severus went over to sit beside Lily reluctantly. He cast a glance back at Hermione, but she was no longer looking at him, her head down.

He had to try hard to focus on Lily’s conversation during the meal. She was talking about the difficulties of teaching during the war and the constant interruptions to the children’s routines, so damaging for ones so young. Severus was sorely tempted to roll his eyes and tell her something about damage.

When his plate was already half-empty, she turned the conversation to him. ‘I cannot imagine what you must have gone through, Severus, spying for Dumbledore. It must have been so difficult for you.’ She placed her hand over his briefly and looked him in the eyes and hers shone with what seemed like real admiration. Severus felt taken aback and looked away from Lily’s intense gaze, not knowing how to feel about it.

And then he saw that Hermione’s gaze was fixed on them from the other end of the table, her expression solemn and unreadable. Severus looked away and flushed before gently removing his hand from under Lily’s to resume eating his meal.

Lily continued, ‘you’re a brave and wonderful man, Severus, I am full of respect and admiration for you. You deserve all the best things the world can offer you. I sincerely hope that I might one day be able to give some of them to you.’

Severus was surprised and disconcerted by her words but thanked her without engaging on the topic any further. She seemed to expect more of a response from him, and appeared momentarily disappointed, before smiling at him again with a placid, pleasant expression on her face. Severus saw Dumbledore smiling contentedly at them, and Minerva seemed to be watching them with a cheeky expression as she whispered something to Sprout. He could imagine what they were saying and disliked it severely but did not know how to remove himself from the gossip that was no doubt now spreading throughout the staff.

He looked at Hermione again. She was no longer looking in his direction. Instead, she stabbed at her potatoes with her fork, a stormy expression on her face, her normally smooth brow creased and her lips pursed.

_Jealousy_ , a part of Severus’ mind whispered to him, and a joyous hope bloomed through him once more, so broad and bright that he was unable to quash it. It must be. He felt like grinning, like laughing, like jumping up from the table and pulling Hermione into his arms, but he knew he couldn’t, shouldn’t, make such a scene. And some niggling doubts remained at the back of his mind. _He looked so different that she had barely recognised him_. _Weak-natured_. _Easily swayed_. The words stabbed at him. They had been repeated in his mind so often in the last weeks, taunting and torturing him in turn. They were useful weapons to combat that dangerous hope which was threatening to consume him.

He turned his attention back to Lily. He couldn’t help but be annoyed at her, for making a display out of him in front of the others, for touching him when he had given her no encouragement to do so. But there was nothing to do but avoid her, he supposed, and continue in his lack of encouragement of her advances. He didn’t want to cause a rift between himself and his colleague, not when he still valued her company and friendship. Such things had been so sparse in his life so far.

Hermione left the Great Hall quickly after dinner, not sparing him another glance. Severus was disappointed but not surprised. The idea of her jealousy still held him in its grip, and, despite his attempts to squash such ideas, he felt more hopeful now than he had in almost a decade.

That evening, the whole staff was gathered in the staffroom for a game of cards. They hadn’t started playing yet, but some had started drinking and the conversation was already lively. Minerva and Sprout were eagerly anticipating the wedding on the weekend and Severus took the opportunity to approach Hermione who was standing to the side of the gossipy group.

‘Will you be going to the wedding?’ he asked in a low tone, and Hermione looked up at him, smiling but more reserved than she had seemed in Madam Puddifoot’s.

‘No,’ she said, ‘I wasn’t invited, I think they are keeping it to close friends and family.’ She smiled at him with a wry humour, and then added, ‘I suppose you couldn’t have guessed what the consequence might be, when you sent Rosmerta to fetch Poppy.’

‘No, I couldn’t have. I was surprised,’ Severus said, ‘very surprised when I heard of their engagement. I had thought his affections laid… elsewhere.’

Hermione blushed and looked away for a moment, before determinedly meeting his gaze again, her eyes once more glowing and warm in a way that made his breath hitch. ‘I was surprised too,’ she said, ‘Sirius is a nice and sweet man, with a good temper and sense of humour. But Rosmerta… she was so deeply in love with Alastor, and Alastor had been such a great man, powerful and secure… I would not have expected her to choose someone like Sirius, after having loved such a great man as Alastor.’ Hermione looked up imploringly at Severus for a moment. ‘You don’t move on from that kind of love, you shouldn’t. Not so quickly. Perhaps never. That kind of connection… it’s so rare, so irreplaceable, so precious… I wonder at Rosmerta, I really do.’

Severus’ soul leaped. He knew she wasn’t just talking about Rosmerta and Alastor, he was certain. She was telling him that she had not forgotten, had not moved on. The expression in her lovely eyes was beseeching, trying to convey her feelings, and Severus was consumed, held still in the power of her gaze. He felt set alight, burning, joyous, full to bursting –

And then a throat cleared behind him and he turned. Lily. Of course. She smiled winningly at him, though it did not reach her eyes, and said, ‘come, Severus, we are waiting for you to begin the game. I’ve saved a seat for you next to me as always. I can’t quite remember the rules of this one, perhaps you could help me?’

Her transparent ploy grated at him, and he turned back to Hermione, but she was gone. The door to the staffroom was standing open.

Without a second thought, he went after her.

‘Hermione!’ he called when he spotted her quickly retreating form. He jogged to catch up with her. She stopped and turned once he was close. She looked at him coldly once more, and Severus felt it keenly. ‘Hermione,’ he said desperately, ‘don’t you want to join the game? It’s always fun, isn’t that worth staying for?’

‘No,’ she said curtly. She looked pointedly at a spot behind him and then said, ‘there’s nothing here worth me staying for.’ She turned again and walked briskly down the corridor, away from him.

Her words chilled and disappointed him. But when he turned back towards the staffroom, he saw what she had seen. Lily was standing there, beautiful and composed, waiting for him to return.

Severus did so, reluctantly. He was angry at Lily, angry at himself. How was it, that something, some mishap, some misunderstanding, always stood in his way?

He joined the card game with a surly demeanour, barely hearing the whispered flattery and affectations Lily threw at him throughout the evening. He went to bed early but was unable to sleep. Exquisitely painful sensations pounded through him– desperation, longing, and a fierce hope that tore at him insistently, hope that his perpetual loneliness might, finally, come to an end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaand Hermione is finally back in the picture!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the penultimate chapter! I hope it is somewhat more satisfying for those of you who have been despairing... Enjoy :D

But the next days brought no opportunities for reconciliation. He couldn’t get Hermione alone. Once again, she was ignoring him persistently, barely looking at him, always seated away from him at the head table in the Great Hall and rushing off after every meal. He longed for a chance to speak with her, to have her meet his gaze, but whenever he tried to follow her, she had disappeared. And, still, Lily clung to his side, flirting and touching him whenever she could, despite his unresponsiveness and ever-increasing brush offs.

The rest of the staff seemed oblivious. Minerva went so far as to tell him one morning that she was happy he had found someone and that she wished him joy. He had looked at her sternly and told her that he didn’t know what she was talking about, and she had looked taken aback for a moment before looking at him coyly and saying that perhaps she had spoken too soon.

He was nearing the end of his tether when they all sat gathered in the staff room again one evening. Most of the others were sitting together by the fireplace, talking animatedly. Severus was sitting alone in a chair to the side, failing to focus on his book. Hermione was bent over a table in an opposite corner, writing a letter which she had told Minerva was for her parents.

Severus was impatient and his desperation had grown until it could hardly be contained. Desperation to have her finally meet his gaze again, to once more receive that glowing look which had been etched into his mind. And as the days had passed, his doubts had grown again – perhaps he had been mistaken in her apparent jealousy, perhaps he had been wrong about the renewal of her feelings.

But he knew he couldn’t go on like this much longer. Before the end of the week was over, he had decided, he would find a way to be alone with her, to tell her how he felt, to bring this torture to an end, one way or another. And if she rejected him again – well. He had lived with heartbreak before. He could do it again.

Sirius and Rosmerta’s wedding had come and gone, and Sinistra, Sprout and Minerva were telling Lily all about it excitedly – the gowns, the flowers, the catering – all had been perfection.

‘But it all happened so quickly!’ Sinistra exclaimed, ‘they had barely been together by the time they got engaged, and weeks later they were married!’

‘Just as it should be,’ Minerva said. ‘Personally, I hate a long engagement. And the wedding was so joyous. A lovely reminder that the war is finally over. I know several couples who were engaged throughout the whole war, too often it didn’t work out. War-time romance is always doomed, I think, it makes people take too many risks, act too often without thinking. It makes them irrational and places everyone in more danger.’

Severus couldn’t help but glance at Hermione at these last words, which hit so close to home. She had been concentrating on her letter for a while, but now her quill was still and her head was up, as if she were listening intently. As Minerva was speaking, Hermione darted a quick look at Severus and their eyes met for a short, exquisite moment.

Severus’ name was called and he tore his gaze away from hers. Hagrid was standing alone by the window, not far away from where Hermione was sitting. He gestured to Severus to join him and Severus reluctantly got up to join him as Hagrid poured them each a glass of whiskey.

‘It sounds like the wedding was a good ‘un,’ Hagrid said gruffly, and Severus agreed non-committedly. ‘But I can’t help but think of our poor Alastor,’ Hagrid continued. ‘He was always kind to me, he helped protect my animals before the final battle. I don’t think he would’ve moved on so quickly, if Rosmerta had been the one to go. But I guess when the person you love has died, when there’s no more hope, it’s easier to forget and move on.’

Severus was surprised by Hagrid’s unusual loquaciousness and depth of thought, but he remembered that Hagrid’s own love, Madame Maxime, had also died in the final battle. Hagrid hadn’t seemed the same since.

‘Perhaps,’ Severus replied, ‘that was the case with Rosmerta. I suppose some people do love and forget more quickly than others, are more able to forge new connections, are perhaps more fickle with their love and devotion.’ He paused for a moment and thought of Hermione, of how she had left him so long ago, and of how she had returned only to ignore him. It was a painful thought.

Hagrid looked sad, and Severus continued. ‘But I don’t think it can be general rule, that love fades once hope is gone. Some of us can never forget, never move on. If you have loved someone truly, deeply, if you have felt so connected to them that you felt like you and they have become one and the same, not even a final separation and the loss of all hope of reconciliation can make those feelings go away. Sometimes love, I think, is forged too permanently to ever fade.’

A soft thump distracted Severus for a moment – Hermione had dropped her quill to the floor and bent quickly to recover it. Could she hear their conversation? Surely not, not over the loud chatter of his colleagues. She resumed writing then, her jarred movements suggesting she was writing very quickly. He could see her small, ink-stained hand gripping the quill tightly.

Hagrid was wiping a tear from his cheek when Severus looked back at him. ‘I think you are right, Severus,’ Hagrid smiled at him through watery eyes. ‘I could not forget Maxime so soon. I doubt I ever will.’

‘No,’ Severus said, compassionately. ‘I don’t believe you will. But that is a sign of having loved with all your heart. Not everyone is so fortunate to have loved like that, and to have been loved so in return.’

Severus raised his glass to Hagrid, and they drank a sip together. They were silent for a moment. The women were still chatting about the wedding and the difficulties of wartime romances, and Hermione was scratching almost frantically away at her letter, her head bowed down deeply over the table, her hair tied back with an elastic band, allowing Severus to briefly observe the exposed sliver of smooth skin behind her ear. He couldn’t help but imagine kissing her there.

When the conversation seemed to lull, Minerva called over to her. ‘Hermione, I’m about to go to the owlery, if you’re ready with your letter?’

Hermione started and looked up. ‘One moment please, Minerva, I’m almost finished,’ and she bent back down again and continued writing quickly, the feather of her quill quivering with the force and speed at which she wrote.

Severus felt a deep affection for her in that moment, and a curiosity as to what she could be writing that preoccupied her so. He let himself smile and thought of his conversation with Hagrid. No, his was not a love which could ever fade. Even when he had had no hope, when he had believed more firmly than anything else that his chance for a life with her had been destroyed irrevocably, when he had had nothing but a deep, lonely despair which consumed him ever more day by day, even then he had loved her as fiercely and devotedly as ever. He would never, could never, stop loving her.

He turned back to Hagrid and took a sip of his Whiskey. He noticed Lily looking at him jealously but looked away from her swiftly, avoiding eye contact. ‘If you’d like to talk more some time, Hagrid, I’d like that,’ Severus said quietly. Perhaps he could make another friend. Hagrid looked pleased and surprised and seemed about to say something when the sound of Hermione’s chair scraping the ground interrupted him and drew their attention.

She hastily folded her letter before saying clearly, ‘I’m finished with my letter, Minerva, if you’d like to go together now?’

Without so much as a glance towards Severus, Hermione hurried from the room with Minerva in tow. Severus had a moment to feel disappointed. Yet another missed opportunity to finally talk with her, yet another cold instance of her ignoring him.

But then, just as suddenly as she had left, Hermione re-entered the room and walked quickly towards the table she had just left. ‘I forgot my quill,’ she said to the others before picking it up while bending over the table to hide it from view of the others.

But Severus could see as she revealed a note which had been mostly hidden under an ink well. Hermione raised her eyes to his, and the force of her gaze rooted Severus firmly to the ground. Her deep brown eyes were burning with a fire, a passion, he had feared was long gone. They entreated and enflamed him and he felt their impact in his very bones. Their gaze was locked for a breathless moment – and then she broke the contact and left the room again, leaving Severus bereft.

A nervous anticipation rose in him – Severus could not mistake her meaning. She had left the letter for him.

When he could move again, Severus walked to the table and sank down into the chair she had just vacated. He stared at the letter for a moment. He knew in his core that its contents would decide his fate, would determine whether the remainder of his life would be one of joy or enduring, unbearable, loneliness.

With trembling hands, he picked up the folder letter, his initials ‘ _SS_ ’ scrawled inelegantly across the front, as if written in a hurry. He unfolded it and started reading, his heart in his throat, his entire being suspended in desperate anxiety.

_Severus, your words pierce my heart. I can’t stay silent a moment longer. I am half agony, half hope. Please, don’t tell me that I’m too late, that I have lost your precious love for ever. I am yours, if you will still have me, and my heart belongs to you even more now than when you broke it eight and a half years ago. You say that some can love another one moment and forget the next. That their love can fade to nothing – I beg you, don’t believe that I am among them. I have loved no one but you. I have been weak, resentful and bitter, but I have never been fickle. You, only you, have brought me to Hogwarts. For you, and only you, I have thought and planned. How have you not seen that? Have you truly not understood my wishes? If I had been able to read your feelings these last days, I wouldn’t have waited a second to try and win you back. I can barely write, I cannot help hearing your every word. They electrify me. You’re speaking quietly, but I can make out every word of your beautiful voice. You perfect, darling man! You say some love is forged too deeply to ever fade – believe me, then, when I say that my love for you is etched so deeply into my very being that its fading would be my ending. Believe my love to be deeper, more fervent, more yours than ever before._

_I have to go now, uncertain of my fate. You hold my heart in your hands. But I will find you as soon as I can. One word from you, one look, will be enough to decide whether I remain here at Hogwarts, or whether I leave it forever._

_Yours, with all my soul – Hermione_

Severus was undone.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe this is the final chapter! Thank you to everyone who has come with me to the end - and thank you Jane Austen too for a wonderful angsty HEA plot. I hope you enjoy!

Severus was undone. His eyes filled with tears. He could barely believe the words and had to read them through a second time. The loneliness that had consumed him for so long ached within him still. But it rose up in him, as if ready to finally be released. His hands were trembling. Before him on the table lay the shards of his entire being, throbbing with the urgent beat of his heart, waiting to be scooped up by her hands, her small, beautiful hands. He needed a moment, he needed several, to pull himself together, to process his thoughts and his feelings.

But it was not to be – a hand touched his shoulder and he started violently, before whipping around expecting to see her face, her glowing eyes. But it was not Hermione. Lily stood there looking at him with a frown between her perfectly groomed eyebrows, and Severus pulled himself from her grip and clutched his precious letter to his chest.

‘Severus-‘ she started saying, but he just stood up and walked past her without another glance. He walked from the room without a word to anyone, his heart pounding and his mind whirling.

_She loved him still._

He had to find her, had to tell her, show her, how he felt. _Or she would leave forever_. The thought filled him with desperation. He couldn’t let her leave, couldn’t give her a moment’s more doubt of his feelings, his devotion to her.

He didn’t know where she was. But she had gone to the owlery with Minerva. Severus headed in that direction immediately, almost running up the stairs, leaping from one staircase to the next when it had begun to move away from him.

When he reached the fifth floor, he stopped short.

There – there she was, still walking with Minerva. Walking towards him.

His heart was pounding. He stared at her, arrested where he stood.

When she noticed him, her movements jarred for a moment, too, before she continued towards him, her eyes unsure and searching. Severus locked his gaze to hers and tried to convey all that he felt through one look, pushing his love, his hope, his joy towards her with everything he had.

He barely noticed when Minerva greeted him. She was saying something, but he did not know what. He couldn’t look away from Hermione - she was glowing up at him now, the uncertainty gone, her gaze warming him like the sun. A joyous, almost uncontainable smile played about her lips and Severus felt his own curl up in response.

She knew. It was done.

Neither noticed Minerva’s confusion as her eyes darted between them. They did not look at her, or respond to her queries, and so she eventually gave it up as a lost cause and continued down the staircase alone.

As soon as she was gone, Severus fell into Hermione’s arms. She wrapped her arms tightly around him and crooned as he buried his face in her neck. He couldn’t help the tears that burst from him. It had been eight and a half years since he had been held by anyone. He hugged her tightly in return, sobbing brokenly now. He wanted to hold it in, to speak to her, to kiss her, but it was impossible. The emotions roaring through him were too much to contain, his need for touch and comfort, which had gone unanswered for so long, could not be suppressed.

Hermione stroked his hair and he felt the wetness of her own tears on the back of his neck. He felt her breathe in deeply before letting it slowly shudder out. As one, they sunk to the floor of the corridor, his head resting on her shoulder as she cradled him in her arms. She started stroking his back, her fingertips drawing light patterns which soothed and calmed him. ‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured quietly, mournfully, ‘I’m so sorry.’

Severus took some deep breaths and his tears eventually stopped. They breathed together, and Hermione continued caressing him and then dropped a kiss against his lank hair.

At the first touch of her lips, Severus sucked in a breath before releasing it in a gush against the skin of her neck, still damp from his tears. She shivered, and his power to affect her thus thrilled through him.

Severus shifted to press his lips against her neck, kissing her bronze, soft skin reverently, his eyes tightly shut. He breathed her in, the flowery scent of her hair oils, and something sharper and heady, something that was just Hermione. He felt her sigh, and he continued pressing kisses down to the soft curve of her collar bone, and then back up until he reached her jaw, and further still until he found the corner of her soft lips.

He paused for a moment and opened his eyes, glancing up at her. He found her eyes glowing down at him so brightly that he could do nothing but kiss her. Their lips met for the first time in eight and a half years.

It felt like homecoming. It was perfection. Their lips moved carefully against each other’s, and when she responded more firmly, a bolt of need shot through him so fiercely that he gasped against her mouth.

They parted and just looked at each other for a moment. He saw his desire reflected in her darkened eyes, her parted lips.

‘I love you, Hermione,’ Severus said then, softly, ‘I have loved you all these long years.’

She moaned softly at this, and said ‘oh Severus, I’m so sorry.’ She wiped at her eyes to prevent tears falling again. ‘I love you too, so much.’

He leaned forward again, and pressed another gentle kiss to her soft, full lips, in silent joy at her words, in cautious forgiveness.

Slowly, they became aware of their surroundings. The large corridor was lined with curious portraits. Any of their colleagues could stumble across them there, embracing on the floor. And so they pulled themselves up and patted down their rumpled clothing and cast enamoured, still shy, glances at each other.

‘Come back to my chambers?’ Severus asked her then. They had so much to talk about. And he longed to keep holding and kissing her and to, finally, be held and kissed in return. He had not so much as been hugged in years. His longing was overwhelming.

Hermione leaned up again, and pressed a gentle, caressing kiss to his cheek, cupping his face in her hand. Then she took one of his hands in hers and clung on to his arm as she let him lead her down into the dungeons. Occasionally, she rubbed her head against his shoulder as if equally desperate for his touch, for the feel of him against her skin.

They were oblivious to everything around them as they walked – no moving staircases or ghosts or chattering portraits distracted them from their bliss, not even the stunned form of Sinistra, standing frozen at the sight of them as they passed the second floor, caught their attention. No two people had ever walked through the castle as caught up in their heady, joyous togetherness as Severus and Hermione in that moment.

‘These last weeks since I arrived here have been torture,’ Hermione murmured once they were curled up on his couch together, Hermione’s head resting on Severus’ shoulder, his arms wrapped tightly around her to hold her against him. The feel of her was a blissful comfort. ‘I was so sure that I had arrived too late. That through my blindness, my pride, I had lost you forever to someone else.’

Severus couldn’t think of how to respond. Surely, surely, she must know that someone like Lily, someone who was not _her_ , could hold no power over him.

Hermione continued. ‘I tried so hard to forget you. For years I had convinced myself I had. But I never met another man in all that time who could hold up in comparison to you. Who could compare to your goodness, your kindness, your inner strength. I subconsciously held you up as an ideal whom no one could ever measure against. But I was angry and bitter and hateful. I couldn’t move past my wounded pride, the pain of your refusal. And then, after the war, I decided it was time to settle down, to find a partner. I was done with being alone. And then, at Grimmauld, I tried to convince myself that I could be happy with Sirius. God, how you must have despised me! I tried so hard not to notice you, not to let you affect me, to hold on to my belief that I had moved on. But there you were, and as beautiful to me as the first time we met.’

Severus smiled at that and couldn’t help comparing her words to those he had overheard on that evening months ago. It felt good to hear her say it. He knew that her words did not reflect any change in his appearance, but only her changed feelings towards him. He pressed a kiss to her curls, and she leaned further into him to kiss his neck in return. A shudder of relief, of love, ran through him.

‘At Grimmauld, I finally learned to understand you. I saw you as you were, not as you had become in my memories. I saw your goodness and dedication – how you continued brewing and healing others, even as you were meant to be celebrating. But it wasn’t until that day at Hogsmeade that I realised how far I had deluded myself. First, when Sirius told me about Tonks, I felt a spark of triumph, of hope, I knew then that you had rejected another offer, from someone far more your equal in training and experience, than I had been. And then later, that horrible moment, when Sirius was hexed… God, how stupid I felt when I finally saw the truth! I realised that I did not, could not possibly, love Sirius. I realised that there is value in cautiousness, in thinking before acting, in not recklessly following every impulse of passion.

‘And then you – god, you were magnificent in your calm, decided reaction. You saved Sirius’ life. Your even temper, your competence, your skill… in that moment, I realised how deeply I had fooled myself, and how desperately I still loved you.’

Hermione looked up at him then, her eyes shining with tears, and Severus kissed her urgently, catching her bottom lip in his teeth before thrusting his tongue into her mouth. The pain of their long separation, of these last months, still echoed through him strongly. The weight of his former loneliness still thrummed in his soul. They clutched at each other, and Hermione responded with equal passion, equal desperation.

But she wasn’t finished, and she gentled her kiss and caressed his face before laying her head back down on his shoulder and continuing her story. As she did so, she held his hand tightly between her own, stroking her thumb over the sensitive patch between his thumb and forefinger.

‘And yet,’ she said lowly, ‘I had almost ruined everything. My words, my stupid encouragement, were to blame for Sirius’ injury. And just as his condition started improving and I became determined to find you and win you back, I discovered just how much damage I had caused. Minerva and Arthur made it clear to me that they thought Sirius and I were committed to each other, that we were in love, that the expectation that we would be married was widely held. Of course, I knew by then that that would be impossible for me. But how could I run off to you, when Sirius was still weak and recovering, when his injury had been my fault, and when the others had told me that he was in love with me?

‘And so, once he was out of danger, instead of finding you as I longed to do with everything I had, I retreated to Herefordshire, to stay with my parents. I wanted to let the dust settle and hoped that our distance would temper Sirius’ feelings somewhat. Waiting was unbearable. I was dying to find you, to explain myself, to do everything in my power to win you back, though I knew I could hardly deserve you after the way I’d behaved. My parents were happy to see me at first, of course, but after a while I’m sure I drove them mad with my moping. And then came the unexpected news of Sirius’ engagement to Rosmerta. I was free! I could find you and love you with no compunction, no need to let down Sirius gently first, no need to wait to spare his feelings.

‘I came to Hogwarts as quickly as I could. I didn’t expect to see you in Hogsmeade, I was so surprised when I saw you in Madam Puddifoot’s! I wanted to throw myself in your arms, I wanted to kiss you, I wanted to beg you to tell me that you could still love me – but then Lily was there, _touching_ you, and I wanted to tear out her hair, but how could I get in your way with her, when she might be what you wanted? She is so very beautiful and clever. I hated her immediately, jealousy consumed me entirely – and then she was always there, always had your attention, always had her hand on your arm. And I had treated you so badly, had been so blinded by my injured pride, I could claim no right to you.’

At these words, Hermione gripped his hand more tightly, as if asserting to herself that she could now, that he was _hers_ now. And he was. Utterly. He raised his other hand and grasped her face again, kissing her deeply, reassuring her and himself. Nothing could come between them now.

But still, she was not finished. After a while, she tore herself away from his lips once more. His body was alive with need for her, but he ignored it for now and focused on what she was saying.

‘I was on the verge of giving up. I was sure I had lost you. Nothing has ever hurt more. Not even our first separation. I loved you then, but I loved you even more now, now that I knew more deeply, more truly, what a wonderful man you are. How noble, and self-sacrificing, and beautiful, and perfect. The perfect man for me.’

Severus couldn’t help but release a choked sob at her words, her wonderful soul-searing words. She brought his hand up to her lips and kissed his palm reverently.

‘But I couldn’t bring myself to leave,’ she went on. ‘Not yet. And then, I overheard your conversation with Hagrid and each word brought me to hope more and more that you could, that you did, still love me. It was all I could do to stay quiet, to not cry out that I loved you still, more than ever. But the others were all there, and so I wrote to you instead. And now, here you are, and you are finally mine again.’

She looked up at him, her expression exuding joyous triumph. Her lips were swollen from their previous kissing and her eyes, oh her eyes, were glowing at him more brightly, more warmly, more lovingly, than ever.

And Severus could resist no longer. He hauled her into his lap and kissed her thoroughly, pouring his whole soul into her, absorbing hers in return and letting it finally – finally – eradicate the last remnants of the deep, constant loneliness which had defined the last eight and a half years of his existence.

The desire between them grew until they were both engulfed in the flames of their joint desire. Severus slipped his hands beneath the hem of her jumper and stroked the skin of her back, the sensation of all that warm softness making him almost cry out with want. Hermione moaned into his mouth as he touched her, and then pushed his cloak off his shoulders before pulling his jumper over his head and discarding it on the floor.

Severus groaned as her fingers flew over the buttons of his shirt while she attacked his neck with desperate kisses, sinking her teeth lightly into the soft skin over his pulse point. His need was urgent now, and her fingers were fumbling with his many buttons, struggling to undo them, and without thinking Severus found his wand cast _divesto_ , and suddenly they were naked.

They both let out cries of satisfaction, of desire, at the feel of so much bare skin against bare skin. He had never seen anything as beautiful as her, as she sat on his lap, her knees around his waist, her dark golden-brown skin so smooth, so beautiful, his own skin almost luminescent in contrast. He growled low in his throat, before diving down to capture a flushed nipple between his lips, tonguing at it until it hardened in his mouth, caressing her other small but perfectly full breast in his hand.

Hermione almost purred, the sound coming deep from her within her chest, and too soon she pulled his head back up to hers, capturing his lips almost aggressively as she found his erection and palmed his tip, making him gasp and pull away again. He took a deep breath, trying to retreat from the sharp edge of his need. He needed to last, he needed to feel her around him once more.

He grabbed her hips, his fingers pressing into her rounded flesh, and helped her lift up as she positioned him at her entrance.

They paused a moment, their eyes locked – hers burning brightly and almost black, her pupils blown with desire. ‘Severus,’ she gasped, ‘now, please, I need you,’ and he could wait no more.

They both groaned deeply as she sank down on him, her tight wetness almost burning him with its perfect heat. Severus felt tears spring to his eyes at this searing culmination of so much hopeless, relentless longing. ‘Hermione,’ he moaned, in an almost anguished voice, as he was seated as deeply within her as possible, ‘I’ve missed you so much.’ He felt her flutter around him and held her tight to his chest to draw out the exquisite moment of their union.

Hermione pulled back to fix her eyes onto his. ‘You’re mine now,’ she told him, her tone fierce, ‘I’m never letting you go again.’ And then she clenched down on him tightly and he could hold himself back no longer. He grasped her hips again and lifted her up before he thrust himself deep within her once more. They both moaned with relief, and she lifted up again, and again until they were continuously groaning, sighing each other’s names, eyes locked, unblinking, relishing in their connection.

As the heat between them grew, their movements became faster, shakier, more desperate, until Severus felt Hermione fly apart around him with a cry of ecstatic relief, her head thrust back and her fingers intwined in his, and he came with a long, deep groan which seemed pulled from the deepest regions of his soul, releasing inside her as he clutched her tightly to his chest.

They came down again slowly, breathing hard. Their skin was slick with sweat, but they held each other closely anyway. Severus felt overwhelmed, he felt like he needed to tell her how much he loved her, had missed her, needed her, wanted her, never wanted to be apart from her again, but the words wouldn’t come out, they felt stuck in his throat which was clogged with unshed tears. But then Hermione pulled back again and looked at him with such tenderly glowing eyes, and then she kissed him so gently and so sweetly, sighing as their lips parted again, that he felt she understood, that she had seen all he wanted to say in his eyes. It felt so unbearably good to be seen again.

Later, once they had finally managed to move themselves into his bedroom, they lay entwined together on his bed in perfect felicity.

Severus finally voiced a thought which had been nagging at the corner of his mind for some time.

‘Hermione, I… I’ve been thinking about it, and I can’t say that I believe I was wrong to have listened to Dumbledore’s advice, all those years ago. The consequence was painful, believe me, and I have regretted it so often throughout the years, and regretted hurting you. But was I wrong to let myself be influenced by him? By the leader of the opposition? By the man who had been my only mentor, my only guardian? I think it would, perhaps, habe been more wrong of me to ignore his words. I’m not saying that his advice was right. That he hadn’t been wrong to underestimate you, to try to separate us. But hindsight is easy. It resulted in so many years of hopeless loneliness, on my side.’ He clutched Hermione more tightly to him as he said these last words, reminding himself that that time of his life was, finally, at an end. ‘But we also won the war,’ he continued, ‘we defeated Voldemort. Who knows what would have happened if we’d stuck to our plans at the beginning.’

They were silent for a long while, lost in thought, in memory. Hermione drew patterns on his naked chest. And then she spoke.

‘And I have been wondering, Severus… would you, if I had come back to you a few years later, after I had been trained, after I had proved myself and my usefulness… if I had come to you then, as I thought of doing more than once but never did, unsure of my welcome and poisoned by my bitterness… would you have accepted my love then? Would you have had me by your side?’

‘Would I!’ Severus replied in a tone of anguish, ‘Hermione, I dreamed of nothing else these long, lonely years.’

Hermione closed her eyes then, as if to ward off some strong emotion, and buried her face against his chest, nuzzling him like she was trying to burrow her way deeper into his skin. Severus held her against him tightly. He could feel her breathing in and out deeply, as if trying to calm herself.

Eventually she drew away again. She looked at him solemnly, and brought her hand to his face, stroking the line of his brow as if trying to soothe away all those years of sorrow.

‘Then, Severus, I cannot solely blame Dumbledore. I cannot blame anyone more than I must blame myself. I have been my own greatest enemy. To think of how many years of separation I could have saved us both.’

She lay her head back onto his chest, and he curled his larger body around her. His years of loneliness were behind him now. The past was the past, and they were together now. That was all that mattered.

She pressed herself against him, and they lay there for a while, enjoying the feeling of their closeness.

After a while, Hermione spoke again. ‘Marry me, Severus,’ she said softly. ‘Let me spend the rest of our lives loving you.’

A quiet joy welled through him, and he said the only thing he could do.

‘Yes.’

Still curled up together, they soon fell asleep, both drained from the day’s intense emotions.

Severus woke up to her kisses and to the quiet joy which unfurled within him when he realised that this was his life now. They made love in a silence that was only interrupted by gentle gasps and sighs. Severus was on top this time, and thrust into her deeply and slowly, his heart full to the brim at the sensation of her wet heat surrounding him. Hermione’s arms were wrapped around his back and they held each other’s gazes between kisses, relishing in the feeling of their joining, their completeness.

They went to breakfast together. Sinistra had already informed the disbelieving others of how she had seen the two of them walking towards the dungeons the night before, arm in arm and dishevelled. But some of the staff still gasped as Severus and Hermione entered the Great Hall together, and stared at them unsubtly as Severus pulled out her chair and they sat down together, glowing and happy and sharing soft smiles and tender glances.

Lily looked particularly put out, an unflattering frown pulling at her mouth. But neither Hermione nor Severus paid her any mind, too lost in their perfect contentment.

Later that day, Severus went alone to the headmaster’s office to turn in his resignation. He promised to stay at the castle, with Hermione of course, until a suitable replacement was found, and to hand over the lesson plans he had worked on to his successor.

‘Severus, my boy,’ Dumbledore said, surprised and disappointed. ‘Are you sure you are making the right decision?’

‘Yes,’ Severus replied with confident certainty, ‘I’m sure.’

‘You know,’ Dumbledore continued, ‘that I never thought she was quite right for you. But perhaps I was wrong.’

‘You were,’ Severus said, ‘but I hope you will come to see differently. She is my life now.’

Dumbledore looked surprised by Severus’ openness for a moment, but it passed quickly, and he replied with his usual demeanour and a twinkle in his eye. ‘Well then, my boy. I will do my best. But I will be sorry to see you go.’

Severus was not sorry. As he walked back down to his chambers, where he knew Hermione would be waiting for him, he almost felt like running for joy. It was impossible to contain the wide smile that spread across his face and softened his usually stern features. His life lay before him now, and he knew that it would be happy one.


End file.
